Alpha
by Last Fading Smile
Summary: Alenko's return to duty on the Normandy is more fitful than he'd anticipated, reopening some old wounds, and creating some new ones. Whiskey doesn't help.


Jettisoned from sleep by an all too familiar nightmare, Alenko had sought succour at the bar, where he sat alone with the lights dimmed, nursing a worse-than-normal headache and a bottle of 'medicinal' whiskey that was already half gone. It was a young single malt, not without its charm but nothing special; not like the expensive bottle of Peruvian stuff that Shepard had brought him while he was in recovery. He was anxious to open it, and had spent an inordinate number of hours, tied to that hospital bed and ever since, dreaming up scenarios in which he might share it with her. Those thoughts usually progressed to sordid places and frustration he didn't need right now.

He rubbed his temples wearily. It was a strange feeling to be back on this ship; a mix of excitement, relief, anxiety and an unhealthy dose of apparently unresolved guilt. It wasn't an exact copy, but it was close enough to reopen old wounds and stir up long buried memories that all invariably came around to her.

Like the first time ever he saw her, standing authoritatively behind Joker's seat as they set course for Eden Prime. He recalled in lascivious detail the outline of her body in her armour, the way it clung to her curves in a way that revealed everything and nothing at once. The shape of her mouth as it formed her distinctive wry smile, scarlet lips shimmering in the glow of the cockpit; he remembered thinking lamely how her lipstick colour probably skirted the regs – and how the more time he spent with her, the less he really gave a damn about what the regs said. She'd barely acknowledged him at all as she stood there, quietly observing; aloof, and sexy as hell. He remembered the shine of her black hair all tied up in a neat bun, and contemplating how it might look undone, tumbling in curls about her long, slender neck.

Undone. That was exactly how he had been since the moment he laid eyes on her.

His thoughts inevitably strayed down that dangerous path to the moment of his complete unravelling. Those last hours before Ilos spent indulging every repressed, forbidden craving. Her pale skin, so warm to the touch, drank up the ambient blue light of her cabin. Her hair as he'd imagined, a mess of wild waves fanned out beneath her; a scarlet letter smeared passionately across both of their mouths. She had felt so fragile in his arms, so resplendently vulnerable as she'd sighed his name into his neck, giving herself over to him completely. Together they had just let go, with the kind of intemperance that only two people who've seen the dawn at the end of the world can know.

And then just as suddenly as those tantalising flashes of her danced through his mind, they dissipated, replaced by the sting of acrid smoke and the heat of fire, the shrill screech of alarms. Desperate screams of terror, confusion. Panic.

_Kaidan, go. Now._

So much time, wasted. He should have gone back for her, made sure she got into the pod. Maybe it was naïve bravado but he couldn't help but feel that somehow if he had just been there, she would have made it, none of the last two years would have happened and there would have been countless more perfect nights like Ilos. He thought, not for the first time – maybe the hundredth, maybe thousandth – about her floating. Her silent, panicked death as the oxygen drained from her suit, from her lungs. Alone and terrified as the vacuum sucked the life from her body. The only consolation was that she was probably dead before her body started to burn up. Probably.

This was the familiar nightmare that had forced him from his bed tonight, that had forced him from his bed hundreds of nights ever since the attack. Then finding her alive on Horizon, that the reports were true and Cerberus, _Cerberus_ had brought her back. One guilt just replaced another, trading nightmares.

This place was full of ghosts.

He slammed back another mouthful of whiskey as the door 'whooshed' open behind him. He bolted upright, fumbling the glass and sending it clattering to the counter. Alenko swivelled his stool expectantly, but was disappointed by the hulking form of Vega swaggering into the room.

"Whoa, easy there, Slick."

"Lieutenant," he replied resignedly.

A long and awkward silence passed between them. Kaidan knew little about Vega, but what he had seen did not impress. He had been all too eager to jeopardise all of their lives on Mars with his reckless shuttle stunt. He was a shoot first, ask questions later kind of soldier, and that got people killed. No control.

On a more personal level, he would be lying if he said he didn't resent that Vega's security detail had put him within arm's reach of Shepard for the six months she was in detention, while Kaidan had not been able to get approval to visit her even once. He had insinuated himself into her life with that cocky swagger and his nicknames and his over-familiarity, purely by dumb luck. He had not earned his place there like the rest of them.

"So uh…this a private party?"

"No party here, Lieutenant. Just a little, uh…pain relief."

Vega propped himself up against the bar on one elbow and poured himself a shot of whiskey. "So, you going to be joining our little ass-kicking family full time, huh?"

"Seems that way."

Vega downed the shot, grimacing, but poured another. Whiskey wasn't his thing, but he was all out of tequila. "Well, that's good news, man. Good news. Lola, she seemed pretty happy to have you back around the place."

Kaidan's jaw tightened. "Lola?"

"Sorry. The Commander." Another shot. Vega smirked. "Just a little nickname, you know? Helps me remember."

"Hm." Alenko poured himself another drink. Pain shot up his jaw, pulsed through his teeth. "Not sure I quite understand the difficulty in remembering 'Commander'."

The lieutenant stiffened, but the sneer remained, and Kaidan thought he caught a wink. "Maybe. She doesn't seem to mind it, though. So, you used to know her, huh, Slick?"

"_Major_. And yeah. I used to know her real well."

Vega stared at him, his eye alight with fire of competition. "But you don't know her anymore? _Major?_"

He was too tired, too drunk, too _old_ for this; to be pulled into a petulant pissing contest that was going to end up with a disorderly subordinate laid out on the floor and Shepard having to explain to brass why she was letting ranking officers get into drunken brawls. Kaidan pushed back his stool and stood defiantly against the liquor haze and throbbing pain raging through his skull. Slouched over the bar, Vega's ape-like bulk accounted for nothing. Alenko towered over him.

"The only thing," he started quietly, "that you need to know, Lieutenant, is that I know the Commander far better than you ever will." He forced a smile and patted Vega on the shoulder.

Vega chuckled quietly. "No doubt. No doubt. So, I was thinking, I mean, she's the CO, right? But, you're a major. So…huh, I guess you know what it's like to be under her, and above her, yeah? Mm-mm-mmm," he grinned shrewdly, "I bet that feels _good_."

A biotically charged fist swung up reflexively and connected with Vega's cheek, slamming his head violently against the bar with a wet, nauseating crunch; body slumped to the floor – in Kaidan's head. In reality, the Major downed the last of the whiskey and slammed the _glass_ down on the bar instead. With a curt nod, he dismissed the Lieutenant and turned to leave. He was halfway to the door when he heard Vega call out.

"Yo, Slick. Let's you and me deal a hand sometime, yeah? I mean, long as you're not afraid to lose to me."

Kaidan stopped but did not turn around. His fists clenched at his sides, teeth ground against each other. "You're no threat to me, Vega. Set it up."

The door slid closed behind him and he made his way to his quarters. He was near blind with pain and fury by the time he reached his bunk. He sighed heavily as he collapsed into bed, instantly releasing all of the tension that had been building. Immediately his head felt lighter, clearer. He hated himself for letting Vega rile him like that. He could take the copout and blame the whiskey, but he knew better. He surmised that there was a small part of him that feared that maybe Vega was a threat he shouldn't so casually dismiss. Maybe things weren't as black and white as he thought, and maybe it was unrealistic to expect Shepard to just bury Horizon. He hadn't been there for her when she needed him, which was a direct violation of every oath he'd ever uttered to her.

But he wanted to badly to just start over. Or not start over, but to resume just where they'd left off. Being near her again, just on the same _ship_, it was maddening. Thinking about her in her cabin, two decks above him, sleeping alone when he could be there beside her; but did she still want him? All of the time he had spent trying to pull it back together was just…undone.

For the first time in a long time, he thought of Jump Zero.

_Shit_, he thought.

_ This place is full of ghosts._


End file.
